


Dancing ‘Round the Kitchen in the Refrigerator Light

by DoctorRoseAfterDark (lastbluetardis)



Series: Kinktober [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dry Humping, F/M, Fluff, Grinding, Kitchen Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastbluetardis/pseuds/DoctorRoseAfterDark
Summary: When James and Rose come home from a night out at the pub, they begin the sort of dancing that is nowhere near appropriate for public settings.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Kinktober [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948375
Comments: 24
Kudos: 64
Collections: Fangirlia Kinktober Fest!





	Dancing ‘Round the Kitchen in the Refrigerator Light

**Author's Note:**

> So I've fallen off the rails of posting a Kinktober fic daily, but who cares? I'm having fun writing these smutty prompts as I get around to them. This fic is very much unedited since I just wanted to get it out there and posted 💜
> 
> Prompt: kitchen sex  
> ~2500 words
> 
> Btw, this is HiddenTreasures/lastbluetardis, just publishing under the pseud where I've moved all my smutty PWP fics 😘

She knows it won’t last. That it _can’t_ last. She knows that one day in the near future, the giddiness of new love will fade and soften into something comfortable, familiar, and sweet. It will be like tucking the quilt her Nan made her around herself each night at bedtime; the quilt is over twenty-five years old now, but still in good shape because Rose can’t fathom _not_ sleeping beneath that blanket and therefore is doing her damndest to make sure the quilt lives forever.

The same will happen with James, but for now, he is new and shiny. Their love is electrifying. All of his intense stares and sensual caresses ignite her nerves, boil her blood, create an ache so deep inside her that he is the only thing that will satisfy it.

They’ve just come back from a night out, dinner and drinks at a local pub where he made friends with everyone he spoke to, because who _wouldn’t_ fall in love with him at first sight? Who wouldn’t be taken in by his boyish grin and adorable dimples and easy-going body language as he talks to anyone about everything? It’s one of the things she loves most about him, how damn _easy_ it is to talk with him. She’s selfishly pleased that, despite being able to charm the pants off of everyone he meets, he wants _her_ as much as she wants him.

It worried her, at first, how open and flirtatious he is with everyone he meets. Hell, it’s what started her little crush on him in the first place. But he gives her a piece of himself that he doesn’t give to anyone else. It’s a subtle difference, something she has only begun noticing these past few weeks. The way his smile softens his entire face, the way his voice drops an octave when he speaks to her, the way his hand slides to the small of her back as they walk together, the way he drapes his arm around her shoulders even as he’s speaking to someone else.

Most of all, it’s that he _talks_ with her. Sure, he makes conversation with everyone, but if you look closely, he’s not really sharing anything at all. With her, though, he has admitted to telling her things he’s never been able to tell to anyone before. Things like his broken home life, and the ex-girlfriend who used and abused him, and the stresses of maintaining the happy-go-lucky persona people expect from him.

All of this is the confirmation she needs to know that he is taking this thing between them as seriously as she is.

She used to wonder if it was just sex. They hadn’t gone on any official dates before they tumbled into her bed for the first time. At least, she hadn’t _thought_ they’d gone on any dates. It took her a long time to realize that all of their late-night texting and video chats, all of their quick, ten-minute coffee meet-ups, all of their casual kisses hello and goodbye meant the world to him.

And obviously the sex is great. He’s the most attentive lover she’s ever had.

“Did you have a nice time tonight?” he asks as he toes off his Converse and drapes his jacket on one of the hooks by the door.

“I always have a nice time with you,” she answers, gleefully kicking off her shoes as well. She loves dressing up, but the strappy heels are murder on her feet.

He hums happily and blindly makes his way down the hall towards the kitchen, trailing his fingers along the wall because it apparently doesn’t cross his mind to flick on a light. Rose would, but it’s much more fun to watch (and listen to) him stumble through the dark.

A low, yellow glow finally comes from her kitchen. She follows and sees he has flicked on the light above her stove and the one on her refrigerator above the water dispenser. He roots through her cabinet and comes away with an empty glass, which he presses against the water dispenser. Once it’s full, he gulps down half of it in one go.

Rose leans against the doorframe and watches him, watches the way the shadows play across his face, watches the way the muscles of his throat and neck flex as he swallows.

He finally pulls back with a groan of satisfaction that heats her blood.

“Gotta stay hydrated to avoid that pesky next-day hangover,” he says, and, more reservedly, continues drinking. “Want one?”

She nods and comes up beside him. He refills the glass in his hand and passes it to her. The cold water stings her mouth as she sips from it.

He slips his arm casually around her waist as he waits for her, then begins to hum a tune she doesn’t recognize, swaying to the melody in his head. She grins and lets him rock her from side to side, even though it makes drinking her water more difficult.

She finally gives up and sets her glass on the counter and spins so she’s facing him. His hands go to her hips while she drapes hers around his neck and shoulders, and they’re moving to whatever the hell song is stuck in his head.

Rose then shifts the beat, pressing herself even closer to him until their hips are aligned and she is rocking and writhing into him, the heavy throb of her heart acting as the bass that had been blasting through the pub all night long. She had longed to dance with James, but the music wasn’t exactly appropriate for public dancing, and they were just a bit too old for lewd grinding. Not that it had stopped other drunken couples.

But she prefers to keep their intimacy private, something that is only theirs.

Rose drops her hand and reaches into James’s back pocket for his phone. He hums but makes no protest.

It takes a few minutes, but she finally pulls up her Spotify playlist and turns up the volume, giving them an audible rhythm to dance to.

“Oh, you’re a genius,” he murmurs, his hips syncing with the music effortlessly.

Rose wishes that the bass could come through the phone better, but it’s better than nothing. She matches the movement of her body with James’s, pressing her chest tight to his as he grips her hips.

She can feel him growing hard behind his zipper any time her hips make contact with his; the feel of him sends her blood throbbing south too until she’s panting slightly and resisting the urge to hike a leg around his hip and _really_ start grinding.

James evidently has no qualms, though, when he drops a hand to the back of her thigh and _tugs_ , guiding it around his waist. He grunts when his growing erection rubs against her through the thin fabric of her dress and knickers.

They continue as they are for the rest of the song, then James taps her leg. She expects him to suggest they go to bed, but is pleasantly surprised when he walks her backwards until her bum hits the edge of her counter.

“Up,” he commands, and she willingly obeys.

She _loves_ her kitchen counters. They are the perfect height so that when she perches on the edge and James stands between her legs, he presses directly into her, with no awkward hunching or reaching on his part. (It doesn’t hurt that he’s so bloody tall, too.)

The music continues blaring from his phone as James is now the one setting up a rhythmic grind against her. She wraps her legs around his waist, linking her ankles behind his bum as she threads her fingers through his hair and guides him in for a kiss.

He sighs against her mouth when she scrapes her nails across his scalp and her teeth across his bottom lip. One of James’s hands stays at her waist, squeezing her hip, while his other goes to her breasts and clumsily massages them, one at a time, through her dress and her bra.

Rose moves her hands to the front of his shirt. She tugs the hem out of his trouser then she undoes the buttons, pushing it off of his shoulders. He’s wearing a t-shirt beneath it, and she breaks their kiss long enough to tug the fabric over his head, tossing it to the floor as well.

James latches his mouth to the side of her neck as he continues to rock his hips into hers. He is fully hard in his jeans by now, and she is aching to take him out of his pants and take him inside her. But the frissons of pleasure caused by his mouth and his hands and his hips feel too bloody good for her to want to move just yet.

And so they continue grinding to the bass, kissing and touching and moaning their pleasure into each other’s skin. She wonders if she can come like this. Her blood is on fire, the aching pressure low in her belly stretched impossibly tightly that she knows it won’t take too much more for her to go crashing over the edge. Judging by the throaty moans coming from James, he’s as close as she is.

As much as she wouldn’t mind finishing like this, she’s desperate for more, for closer contact.

She slips her hands between their bodies and fumbles with the button and zipper of his jeans. He hisses as she reaches into his pants and wraps her fingers around his hot, hard length. He’s pulsing in her hand and the tip of him is slick with his arousal.

“Push your trousers down,” she murmurs, pressing his erection into his belly to keep it from getting snagged on the waistband of his pants.

He eagerly drops his trousers and pants to his knees, then he groans, long and low, when she strokes him slowly. Her fist is loose at the bottom, and she tightens it on the upstroke until she’s squeezing the tip of him, drawing a delicious cry from him. He drops his forehead to her collarbone and pants raggedly, his humid breath raising goosebumps across her skin, puckering her nipples. She shivers when they brush across her bra.

James reaches for the hem of her dress and shoves it to her waist. He dips his fingers into the front of her knickers and breathes out a curse when he feels how slick she is. She moans when his fingers slide through her, spreading her moisture and teasing every wanting, sensitive inch of her.

She could definitely come like this. All she would need is for James to concentrate his efforts on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. It would be quick and intense and so, _so_ good. And she could bring him off like this, too. With how much he’s trembling, how urgent his grunts are, it won’t take much more for him.

Her stomach swoops, her muscles beginning to clench around nothing, making her decision.

She slows the motion of her hand, causing James to lift his head from her shoulder. His eyes are glazed, his cheeks deep crimson. Her heart clenches with that familiar yet un-acknowledged emotion that is growing stronger for him with every passing day.

Kissing him gently, she guides him between her legs and pushes her knickers to the side. James, realizing what she’s doing, takes over and holds her knickers out of the way as she guides him through her folds and takes him into her wet heat.

He groans and tenses, his arse clenched as he holds himself still when he’s settled as deeply as he can go. Rose wraps her arms around his shoulders, tucking her face into his neck as pinpricks of pleasure prickle through her body.

She shivers and moans when he slowly, achingly, pulls back then pushes back in. He does this again, and again, and again, speeding up gradually until he’s set a frantic rhythm. The heat in Rose’s stomach flares hotter and hotter, her pulse a heavy beat in her ear that’s rivaling the bass of the music filling the kitchen. The cries and groans of their pleasure mix with the melody of the music, creating a symphony of sensation and sound.

One of James’s hands dips between them and begins to rub her in time with his movements, and her body _ignites_. She’s clenching around him, nails biting into his spine as her legs pull him _in, in, in_.

With a garbled shout of his name and a string of curses, she comes, pleasure and ecstasy and _love_ flooding her body with hormones and endorphins until she thinks she might start crying because her body is too small to contain the vastness of emotions she’s feeling.

His hips stutter as she clenches around him, her muscles tight and throbbing until he’s lost too. He seats himself deeply inside her with a grunt and shaky exhale, his hands going to the small of her back to pull her closer to him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, cradling him into herself.

Long after he quiets, he’s panting into her neck. Her heartbeat thuds in her ears and the beat of the music is almost obscene now that they’re coming down from their high. Neither of them has the energy to move, and neither of them particularly wants to. Rose cards her fingers through his slightly-damp hair while James traces lines up and down her spine and bum.

“I love you,” he whispers, so quietly that Rose is _sure_ she’s misheard him. But he presses his lips to the side of her neck in soft, gentle kisses as again he says, “I _love_ you.”

Kiss after kiss, he repeats the words until Rose can’t stay silent any longer.

She cradles his jaw in her palms and lifts his face so she can look him in the eye. His expression is open and vulnerable, but so warm that Rose plants a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, too,” she murmurs.

He grins that special smile that’s just for her, and her heart throbs with the surety of the emotion that she can’t help but kiss him again.

Their love is so new, and so exciting, but she knows it won’t last. The excitement of it, that is. Rose is fairly sure that her love for James is eternal. But their love will become familiar after a while. He will become a solid and immovable presence in her life, as comforting as her old quilt and as heartbreaking to think about being without it.

And while she is just as eager for James to become a staple in her life, she’s excited, for the time being, to continue riding the high of new love for as long as she can.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'd love to hear what you thought of this 💜💜
> 
> (Bonus points to anyone who know the song I took this title from.)


End file.
